Here's To The Night
by purplepagoda
Summary: When Elliot shows up on Olivia's doorstep after all of this time to confront her about the path she's headed down what could possibly go wrong, or right? Will he ruin all of the plans of happily ever after that she's made with Brian? Or maybe they will just find... closure.
1. The Storm Is Over

She's alone in her apartment, their apartment. Her beau is at work, and she is home alone. After a sixteen hour day sleep should come easily, but it doesn't offer itself to her. She sits on her couch with a bottle of wine, just drowning her sorrow. Each night she finds herself reaching for one more glass. In the morning she empties the evidence into the dumpster before he can find it. When he's home she tries to hide the hurt, and the pain. She tries to hide her demons.

She tries not to think about how far she's come, and how no matter how far she gets, she's always stuck. Nearly fifteen years, and she's right back where she started. Same guy, different apartment. Same job, different title. This isn't how she picture her life going. Most of the time she puts on a brave front. The truth is most of the time she completely consumed by anger, and pain.

She feels trapped in a life that she can no longer control. She wants someone to call her out, and make her face her demons. She wishes they would stop treating her with kid gloves, but they continue to tiptoe around her. She closes her eyes momentarily, just to blink away tears. She finds herself wrapped up in missed opportunities, and a feeling of emptiness. A feeling of longing for someone who isn't there.

The sound of someone banging on her door brings her back to reality. She wipes her eyes, and swallows the contents of her glass. She takes a deep breath, and rises from the couch. As she approaches the door she looks at her watch. She's not sure who could be at her door at this hour. She's still dressed in her work clothes despite the fact that she's been home for nearly two hours. She stops at the door, and reaches for the gun that is still holstered on her hip. She peers out her peephole, and un-holsters her weapon. She places the gun on the table in the entry way, and reaches for the locks.

She exhales as she hears the sound of the pin, and tumbler. She pulls open the door, and stares at him in confusion, and disbelief. He stands in her doorway, smirking at her. He instantly picks up on her questioning look. He takes a step towards her.

"Can I come in he asks?"

She swallows hard, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"How did you find me?" She questions, genuinely concerned.

"I have connections," he smiles.

"You have some nerve," she responds.

"Can I come in?"

She nods, and takes a step back. He enters the apartment, and she closes the door behind him. She takes a deep breath, and inhales his all too familiar scent.

"What are you doing here? After all of this time, you have no right..." the vein in her head pulsates in anger.

He cuts her off, "Liv, I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't enough."

"Can I explain, please?" He begs.

"I haven't heard from you in two years. You can't just walk in here after all this time, and expect me to forgive you. You walked away, without a word."

"I am so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. Just tell me what you're doing here."

"I heard your with Cassidy."

"You don't get to have an opinion on that," she tells him.

"I know."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to explain why I've been so hard to reach."

"I really don't care."

"After I left I did a lot of soul searching. I found myself in the middle east on a government contract for the last eighteen months."

"Why would I care?"

"I still care about you," he tells her as he moves closer.

She shakes her head, "Don't! Don't come in here, and mess with my head. I am not going down this road."

"Are you happy?"

"Are you?" She shoots back at him.

He holds up his left hand for her to see. "What do you think?"

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"Olivia, I am unhappily unmarried. I was unhappily unmarried."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Yes, you do."

"No," she argues.

"I want you. All I have ever wanted is you."

"I don't want to hear it, Elliot. You can't come in here after all of this time, and expect me to just drop everything for you. I waited long enough. I am not going to throw away everything that I have worked for, just so that I can end up hurt, and alone, again. Please go," she turns away from him.

"I love you."

She spins around, and glares at him, "And I loved you, in the past."

"Something tells me that you still do."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Don't you wonder what would happened?"

"I am tired of waiting for something that is never going to happen."

"Here I am."

"Now you know what it feels like for the only person that you want to be with to tell you that now isn't the time. It is never going to be the right time for us. Okay?"

He grabs her arm, and pulls her close. She stares into his mesmerizing blue eyes. "No."

She tries to push him away. He doesn't budge.

"Olivia who the hell do you think that you're fooling? You're home alone. At what point are you going to realize that you are turning into exactly the person that you don't want to be."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"You smell like alcohol. How many nights this week have you found yourself in the bottom of a bottle? You might be in a relationship, but you are never going to be happy if you don't face you demons. You have to face the truth. You can't bottle everything up inside, and hope that it will go away. It won't."

"What does any of this have to do with you? Why are you here?"

"I am not the only one who is worried about you."

She cocks an eyebrow, "What do you mean."

"I got a call from Fin."

"Fin? He doesn't even like you."

"He is worried about you. He sees it. He can see through you, too."

"Why would he call you?"

"He thought I could help you."

"I don't want your help," she argues.

He pulls her closer. She feels her breath hitch, realizing that this moment has finally come to fruition. She stares into his eyes, and she can't hold onto her control anymore. She presses her lips against his.


	2. Let Her Go

For a moment she feels as if she can't breathe. She feels herself living in an unlikely reality. He doesn't pull away. He cradles her face. His thumb presses against her jaw, and she can't fight what she's wanted for so long. She doesn't hold back, she doesn't let reason enter the equation. Maybe it's the alcohol, or her recent change in attitude, but she refuses to back down. She reaches for the buttons on his jacket. The jacket hits the floor. She tugs at his t-shirt, and he pulls the clip out of her hair.

Hours later she wakes up in her bed, tangled in sheets, and slightly hung-over. She stares at the clock as an arm wraps around her, pulling her closer. She rolls over, and looks him in the eyes. The magnitude of the situation hits her. She pushes him away.

"You have to go," she insists.

"Olivia..."

"No, you have to go. This was a mistake. I can't do this."

"Liv..."

"It's not worth it. I can't go down this road. You are only going to break my heart."

"Okay, but I need you to make me a promise."

"What?"

"When things don't work with Brian..."

She cuts him off, "You'll be my first call."

"And something else," he adds.

"What?" She groans, knowing Brian will be home in a couple of hours.

"Face the demons, instead of drowning them."

"El..."

"I know you. You're starting on a destructive path. You don't want to end up..."

She cuts him off again, knowing exactly what he's thinking, "At the bottom of a flight of stairs."

"Exactly."

"Will you go now?"

"Yeah," he slides out of the sheets, and reaches for his boxers. He begins to gather his clothes, item, by item. He stops in the doorway.

"I still love you," he reveals as he turns to leave.

* * *

His words are still swirling in her head as she returns to bed after putting fresh linens on the bed. She thinks about the mostly empty bottle of wine in the living room, and how it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Again, his words stick in her mind. She groans as she pulls the covers over her head. She's just gotten into a sound sleep when her phone rings.

She nearly falls out of bed as she searches for the ringing phone. It's not next to her bed, where it is supposed to be. She follows the sound of the phone to the living room. She finds the phone on the floor. She picks it up after the sixth ring. She answers sounding out of breath.

"Benson. Yeah, okay," she hangs up. She curses herself as she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower, before she starts her day. Murder never seems to have convenient timing.

By the end of the day she is caught between a mind splitting migraine, and an incredible bought of sheer exhaustion. She leans against her locker, dreading going home to face Brian. She takes a seat on the bench in the locker room. She hears footsteps. She looks up at the familiar face.

"You okay?" He questions in concern.

"Just tired," she insists.

"Olivia I..."

"Fin you crossed a line," she tells him.

"Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission," he quotes.

"No."

"How did it go? Did the two of you work out whatever issues you may have had, and put them in the past where they belong, so that you can talk to the one person in the world that I know you want to?"

"It did not go well."

"You blew up?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"You melted down?"

"Fin, I don't want to talk about it."

He studies her facial expression, closely. He can see the dark circles under her eyes. He catches the look of guilt in her eyes. He nearly chokes.

"Shit! Liv..."

She cuts him off, "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she says sternly.

"Tell me that you didn't."

"I've got to get home. Brian is making dinner," she rises from her seat on the bench.

"We're not done talking about this," he argues.

She heads for the door, trying to ignore him.

"Liv!"

She turns, and shoots him a look, "Fin, it's over. It's finished. I am not talking about it."

"Come on," he implores.

"I have to go."

* * *

Dinner is awkwardly silent. Brian clears the plates from the table, and heads to the sink. Olivia remains seated, at the table, staring off into space.

"Liv, babe?"

She looks up at him, "What did you say?"

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"You just seem quiet."

"I'm just tired," she admits.

"You didn't sleep last night?" He questions.

"I couldn't seem to fall asleep, and when I finally did the phone rang at three a.m."

"I can take care of the dishes if you want to head to bed, I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Thanks," she vacates her seat at the table.

He stops her before she leaves the room. He kisses her. She tries not to let on that anything has changed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," she lies.

"Okay, I understand. Go to bed."

"I'm sorry."

He kisses her forehead, "Night, I love you."

She walks out of the room without another word.

In the shower the water washes over her, just as the guilt begins to consume her. In the silence she curses herself for jeopardizing everything she's worked for, for something that can never become anything. She says a prayer, and vows not to allow this mistake to define her. She resolves to move forward, and not let this ever come to the surface. She know the right thing to do is to stick with the choice that she's already made, no matter what her heart is telling her. As the water washes down the drain, she hopes that the sin she's committed can wash away with it.


	3. Confessional

He sits across the table from his partner as they each lunch. It's a rare occasion where they are between cases, and neither one of them have to be in court. He watches her, but she is too consumed in thought to make eye contact with him. She pushes her food around her plate with her fork. Her eyes look darker than usual, he notices. She looks more conflicted than usual.

She takes a swallow of her drink. She can no longer avoid the fact that their are eyes on her. She looks up at him. He doesn't look away like she expects him to, instead his dark eyes peer into hers. She knows despite her best attempts to keep him at arms length that he can read her. She struggles with coming up with something to say that will end the awkward silence.

"Olivia," he says her voice in a calm, even tone, "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"Olivia," he repeats, this time in a more demanding tone.

"I was just thinking about the concept of confessional."

He cocks an eyebrow, shaking his head, "You're not Catholic."

"You are," she points out.

"What about it?"

"Nothing," she responds.

"Something, or you wouldn't have mentioned it."

"Among other things it is supposed to assuage guilt for the sins that you've committed, right?"

"That really isn't the purpose."

"It is a part of it though," she points out.

"Yes," he confirms, "Why are you asking about confessional?"

"No reason."

"Olivia if you have something to say, just say it."

"It doesn't work, does it?"

"Confessional?"

"Does it mollify the nagging feeling of guilt at the pit of your stomach?"

"For what?"

"Hypothetically," she clarifies.

"Maybe for some people."

"And for you?"

He shakes his head, "No. Liv why are you asking? You know having you as my partner can be incredibly frustrating sometimes."

"Thank you, I really appreciate that."

"I just meant that I wish instead of being cryptic, or beating around the bush, you could just confide in me. I wish that you trusted me enough to let me behind the wall."

"The wall? What wall?"

"The one you put between yourself, and the rest of the world. What have I done to convince you that I'm not trustworthy?"

"Nothing."

"So why is it that you refuse to talk to me?"

"I talk to you every single day. I talk to you more than anyone else."

"Not about anything of substance," he calls her out.

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do you want to say?"

"Nothing."

"Olivia you were close with your old partner, weren't you?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"You trusted him."

"Yes."

"Why don't you trust me like that?"

"I never said that I didn't."

"It's not the same," he argues.

"No."

"Why not?"

"There are a lot of reasons."

"Give me one," he begs.

She looks away. He stares back at her in complete, and utter frustration. He clenches his jaw, exhales, and decides to take a leap of faith.

"Olivia I've heard the whispers, the rumors. I am just going to come out, and ask it. I think that we have been partners long enough now, that I can ask. Were you screwing your partner?"

"No."

"You never once crossed the line with him while you were partners?"

"No."

"Why do you try to keep me at arms length all of the time?"

She takes a deep breath, "Because I don't want to be that invested in my partnership ever again."

"That's why you didn't want me as a partner?"

"I never said I didn't want you."

"You didn't want another partner, at all. It didn't matter who it was. It wasn't going to be him. He ripped your heart out when he left, didn't he?"

"I'm fine," she says struggling to stave off the tears that have begun to fill her eyes.

"You're still not over it are you? The way he left wasn't right, but I can't change that. I just want you to realize I'm not him. I'm not going to leave you."

"Nick, don't make promises that you can't keep."

"We should go."

"We don't have anywhere to be. Paperwork can wait."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You never want to talk about it. Why?"

Her nostrils flare as she breaks eye contact, "Please don't," she begs.

"Please tell me," he implores her.

"I can't."

"Liv you seem so damn conflicted for someone who is supposed to be happy."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's like you're going through the motions but your heart isn't in it."

"Excuse me?"

"I see you every single day, but you're not happy. You're trying to move on with your life, but even when you do it seems like something, someone is holding you back. I don't think that you're happy. I don't think that you're ever going to be happy with Brian. I know that is harsh, but I am tired of pretending that I don't notice."

"I don't know what to say to that."

"I know he was familiar, and you're comfortable, but I don't for one second think that you actually love him."

"That isn't really your call to make."

"Olivia, why were you asking about confessional? What did you do?" He shifts the subject.


	4. Cheater

"You saw him, didn't you?"

She cocks an eyebrow as she sips her beverage. "Who?"

"Your old partner. Fin said that you saw him."

"Did he?"

"Well he said that he called him."

"He told you that?"

"I am the one who suggested it," Nick confesses.

"What?!"

"Fin isn't the only one who notices things about you. Olivia..." he trails off.

"Are the two of you trying to stage some sort of intervention? I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Nick, I am not having this conversation with you," she pushes her chair away from the table.

He pulls at the collar of his shirt, and lowers his voice to barely above a whisper, "Sit down!" He says firmly.

Without hesitation she drops back into her seat. "You're crossing a line," she warns.

"What choice do I have? You're not okay."

"Why does everyone think that?"

"This has been one hell of a year for you. Nobody would blame you for breaking."

"I am not a china doll. I am not going to break."

"So we're not going to talk about the drinking?"

"Excuse me?! You think just because I had a rough year, and that my mother was..."

He cuts her off, "No. That isn't why I think that. Every time I see you off duty, outside of work, you have a drink in your hand. It's not just one drink either. It is drink after drink. Nobody wants to say anything because they are so afraid of pushing you over the edge. I am your partner. If they won't say it, I will. I think that you have a problem."

She looks at him, in complete shock, for several seconds, she sits in silence. She takes a deep breath, and out of nowhere she reveals, "I slept with him."

Nick cocks an eyebrow, "What are you talking about? Who?"

"Elliot."

"You just said that you didn't."

"I didn't, not then."

"What do you mean, not then?"

"A couple of weeks ago. Fin sent him to my place to quote on quote straighten me out. he came over, and I hadn't seen him in so long. Brian wasn't home, and..."

"You slept with him?"

"I worked with him every day for over a decade. He was married, and I wasn't willing to cross a line like that. I wasn't willing to ruin his marriage to fulfill whatever picture I had in my head. I am not that kind of person."

"So what happened?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"Something happened."

"He's divorced..."

"You're with someone," he reminds her.

"Don't you think that I know that? I know it was wrong. I knew it then, too."

"So why did you do it?"

"Maybe you're right," she admits.

"About what?"

"Maybe I am broken."

"What would make you say that?"

"Because I knew it was wrong... and I just didn't care."

"And now?"

"I made a mistake."

"Because you love Brian?"

"Because I still feel like the other woman. I feel like I've lost self respect for myself."

"What are you going to do?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"You should tell the truth."

"The truth?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"It would be a start."

"You want me to tell him the truth? Nick, the truth is that at one point I did feel something for my partner. In a moment of sheer stupidity I let years of emotions overwhelm me into making one of the stupidest decisions I have ever made. I don't know what I hoped to get out of it, but it wasn't what I expected. I don't feel the same way that I did. I don't want to be with him. I don't even want to see him again. I made a mistake, and I put whatever relationship, or future that I have with Brian in jeopardy for that one night. One night that didn't mean anything."

"You should tell him that."

"He is going to hate you."

"People can surprise you."

"He won't forgive me for that."

"How will you know unless you tell him?"

"I just do."

"Maybe you did it because you knew he wouldn't forgive you."

"On what planet does that make any kind of sense."

"You were looking for an out. On paper you should be the perfect couple, but there is just one problem."

"Nick," she warns.

"You don't love him."

"You don't know that," she argues.

"You do. Maybe you were just tired of being alone, and he came along at the right time."

She shakes her head, "We shouldn't be talking about this."

"Who else are you going to talk to it about?"

She shrugs in response.

He smirks, "Were you going to go to confessional?"

She shakes her head, "Can we go now?"

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"We have paperwork to get back to."

"I know."

They pay the bill, and head back to the precinct. The two block walk back to the precinct is completely silent. Neither of them say anything, or even look at each other as they head back to their awaiting stacks of paperwork.


	5. When I Call Your Name

She's home alone, in an empty apartment, yet again. She sits on her couch as per usual. She takes a deep breath, and reaches for the glass in front of her. She pours another drink, and tries to sort out the pieces. She leans forward, and reaches for her glass. She takes a swig, and does her best to block it all out. The knock on the door jolts her back into reality. She looks down at her watch, and furrows her brow. She rises, but doesn't attempt to hide her glass. She's too tired, or too drunk to care.

She crosses the room, making her way towards the door. She looks out the peephole, and proceeds to unbolt the half dozen locks. She removes the chain, and takes a step back as she pulls the door towards her. A familiar figure enters the apartment. She stands before him, looking up at him in confusion.

"Nick, what are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?" He questions.

"It's almost one o'clock in the morning," she points out.

"You're asleep?" He responds with a hint of irritation, or urgency she can't tell which.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Where is Brian?"

She shrugs, and shakes her head in disgust, "Not here."

"Are you going to offer me a seat, or..."

She cuts him off, "When you offer me an explanation."

"Please," his dark eyes plead with her.

She nods, and steps away from the door she's holding open. He closes the door, and follows her into the living room. He positions himself in a chair adjacent to the couch. She seats herself in her customary spot on the couch. He looks at the mostly empty wine bottle, and then he looks at her.

"That's what I wanted to talk about."

She cocks an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"I know we've all had a lot going on lately, but..."

"But what?"

"How long are you going to drown your sorrows in that bottle?"

"Nick you have..."

"Save it for someone who can't read you like a book."

"You can't just come in here and..."

"I know it's not my place. You are my superior officer. I get that..."

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"I'm here for my partner, for my friend."

"Nick, save it."

"Save it? You act all high and mighty. You pretend like you have everything together. You refuse to look at the facts."

"What facts?"

"You were so wasted that you fucked your former partner. You crossed a line that you vowed never to cross. You are becoming the person you never wanted to be. I don't know whose path you're following. Are you following in your mother's footsteps? Or are you following in Cragen's? Either way it has to stop."

"Nick you don't know what you're talking about," she argues.

"Really? How many bottles do you drink a night?"

"That is none of your business."

"You are drunk right now."

"Nick, you need to leave," she raises her voice.

"Not until you admit that you have a problem. Admit that you are falling apart. Admit that you need help. Admitting you have a problem, that is the first step. How long do you really think that you can keep this up? You are so wrapped up in your own damn problems that you can't see that your squad is falling apart."

"I know that you're falling apart. I can see that," she counters.

"What about Amanda? Do you know that she's gambling again?"

"Nick, I am not going down this road with you."

"I am tired of watching this job eat everybody that I care about up, and spit them out. I am so sick of seeing the people I care about crack under the pressure. Enough is enough." He vacates his seat, and moves towards her. He reaches for her bottle of wine. Her fingers wrap around his wrist.

"Let me have it."

She exhales, "Fine, take it. I don't need it."

He proceeds to the kitchen where he pours the contents down the sink. He turns, and finds her standing behind him with her arms folded across her chest.

"Are you done now?"

"No, I want the other one," he answers.

"Other one? What are you talking about?"

He flares his nostrils, and rolls his eyes. He returns to the living room, and proceeds to pull the other bottle out from under the coffee table. He reaches behind the couch cushion, and removes a second bottle. He heads into the kitchen, and dumps them down the sink. He heads for the cabinet, and takes out every bottle one by one, and lines them up all the way down the length of the counter. She stares at the evidence but says nothing. He points to the floor.

"I'm not done yet, you should have a seat."

"Nick you can't just come into my home, and..."

"And call you out? I can't tell you that you have a problem, because you're too afraid to admit it? Have a seat. I'll let you know when I'm done."

In the living room he finds two more bottles. He finds a bottle near the kitchen table. He heads into the bedroom. He finds three bottles under the bed, and another in the closet. He finds a bottle under the bathroom sink, and one in her laundry hamper. When he returns to the kitchen he adds the rest of the bottles to the pile. He opens the freezer, and finds another. He places the last bottle on the counter, and joins her on the floor. She sits on the cold tile floor, leaning up against the cabinet. He sits across from her, in the narrow space.

"Are those all of them?"

She shrugs with tear filled eyes, "I don't know."

"Maybe Brian isn't home enough to realize what's going on here. I guess maybe you're just really good at hiding it. Why can't you just talk to me?"

"I can't..." she shakes her head.

"Olivia you have to talk to someone. You have to tell one person the truth. If you don't it is going to eat at you for the rest of your damn life. You are never going to get away from it. You are never going to stop drinking to try to forget."

The tears begin to stream down her face. He crawls across the floor to her. He sits next to her, and studies her facial expression.

"You don't even tell your therapist the truth, do you?"

"No," she replies in a hushed tone.

He points to the counter across from them. The entire length of the counter is filled with bottles of alcohol. The sink is mostly full of bottles too.

"Is that the truth you want. Is that the future that you want? If you want to live at the bottom of the bottle for the rest of your life that is up to you. I just always thought that you were better than that, stronger than that."


End file.
